


Year's Cycle

by die_traumerei



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Old Marrieds Compare Work Notes, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley compare notes on the busiest (and slowest) times of the year, and enjoy their retirement over wine and a sunset.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Year's Cycle

“I always did like this time of year best,” Aziraphale said as they settled in their garden with a bottle of wine and oh, just the smallest of charcuterie boards, really just a hint of a snack to complement the lovely _vinho verde_ Crowley had scared up from the cellar for them. There was a definite chill in the air, but there was also the smell of apple blossoms, so outside they were.

“Me too,” Crowley said gleefully, toasting the world around them and topping up Aziraphale's glass.

“Oh, how lovely!” Aziraphale lit up and took a sip. “It's so full of promise. Everything blooming and coming back to life again. Of course England stays ever so green, but there's _colour_ again,” he said, waving to the patch of daffodils under a great oak tree that shaded their garden – or would, when the buds currently forming burst into leaf. They were fat and swelling, and Aziraphale fancied he could almost hear the _pop_ when the soft baby leaves and the long strands of oak flower appeared.

“And giving everyone allergies,” Crowley said.

“Oh. Of course.” Aziraphale gave him a dry look. “Can't forget that.”

“And I don't! The miasma of misery, angel, that's what it is!” Crowley took a satisfied drink, and subtly pushed the board closer to Aziraphale. The brie had just warmed enough to be particularly fragrant, and he'd even bought those little toast rounds to pair with it.

Aziraphale sighed loudly, and ate a grape.

“Really, this was the time of year my numbers always went up, not like the holidays as you'd expect,” Crowley reminisced. “Not that retirement isn't better, mind. Glad I don't have to worry about all that stuff.”

Aziraphale gave a theatrical shudder. “Oh, absolutely, my dear. I'll never have to submit a report to Gabriel again.” He sighed in pleasure at the very notion, and finally started in on the brie to celebrate.

“No more paperwork,” Crowley said dreamily, sipping from his glass. It was, really, the smallest of their joys, but it was also the safest and most containable. The deeper, sadder memories could lie untouched on this spring evening.

“How funny,” Aziraphale said. “That our sides rose and fell in the same way through the year. Spring was my busy time as well; everyone was so happy to have winter over with, and of course there were weddings and young love and such things. Oh my dear, you _must_ try these grapes, they're beyond scrummy.” He plucked a grape from the small bunch and held it out.

Crowley ate from his fingertips, the cold fruit bursting sweet-tang in his mouth, thin skin shattering under his teeth, and he agreed that yes, they were really very good, chilled by the air. The sun was just kissing the horizon now; the sky was pink and beautiful.

“Summer was slow,” Aziraphale said, going back to comparing their schedules. “Of course, there's always a kind of background radiation of souls doing good...”

“And bad,” Crowley agreed. “But summer was always slow. Could take all of August off, if I liked.”

Aziraphale, who generally felt no need to do more than the bare minimum and had scarpered off for holidays with Crowley regularly, sighed in envy. “Do you remember those summer nights in Rome?”

“When?” Crowley asked.

“Any of them.” Aziraphale ate more cheese, the heady smell of it filling his senses.

“Yes,” Crowley said, and meant it. He held out his hand and Aziraphale touched it, then fit his fingers into the space between Crowley's so that his angelic ring knocked, ever so softly, against the ring that Crowley wore. It wasn't a wedding ring, for they hadn't had a wedding, but it matched the one on Aziraphale's other hand, so close enough.

“Autumn ought to have been your time,” he offered generously. “All that veil between the worlds stuff.”

“You'd think,” Crowley sighed. “Oh, Halloween helped a bit, mind. But all that harvest festival stuff. Spring in the southern hemisphere just didn't make up for it.”

“We did all right,” Aziraphale agreed. “Mostly with the rains coming. People gave thanks, and all.”

Crowley nodded and toasted him with a freshly-charged glass of wine. “And then winter. Bloody midwinter holidays,” he grumbled. “Full of greed and anger in the good old days! Some poor sod finds a bean, he's willing to make a deal for  _anything_ . But not anymore.”

“Tch,” Aziraphale said. “Half the world's busy with summer, the other half is remembering how much they hate their Gran. Though there were miracles and blessings and joy aplenty, of course.”

“Oh, yes,” Crowley agreed. “But it was all extremes.”

“Yes! Yes, that's it exactly!” Aziraphale leaned forward a bit in excitement, one hand waving to encompass all of Earth and human history. “Didn't know whether you were coming or going.”

“Show up to do a temptation and practically get burned by _some_ good deed!” Crowley agreed. He was so pleased that Aziraphale knew exactly what he was talking about that he ate a cracker with cheese on it. 

“My dear, having a quiet Christmas at home has been the best part of being retired,” Aziraphale decided.

“The best?” Crowley asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes. “Very well,  _second_ best.”

Crowley shrugged. “Won't disagree with you, then,” he said cheerfully, and finished off the bottle of wine, sharp and fragrant in the chilly night. They'd go inside soon, and probably share another bottle, and Aziraphale would insist on coming to bed with him to make sure he warmed up even under the quilts on their bed. And it wasn't like Crowley would say  _no_ , he wasn't  _stupid_ . 

For the moment though, they drank new wine and breathed air perfumed with blossoms, while the stars slowly came out overhead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> [dietraumerei.tumblr.com](http://dietraumerei.tumblr.com)


End file.
